Crocodile Tears

He knew it was a bad idea to go outside after sundown when the temperatures were sure to drop far below than his body could handle, but perhaps, by habit alone, he felt drawn to the dark and to the streetlights that cast a jaundice glow over the sidewalks and emptying streets. When his movements begin to grow weaker and his muscles stiffen he can’t blame anyone but himself, fingers trembling as he tries to counteract the reaction with a cigarette. A subtle orange glow he protects with a cupped hand. Footsteps near and he’s unfazed by the sound, huddles in on himself enough that the smoke billows from over the tops of his knees. He recognizes the voice, as if it was broken off somewhere in his mind, half morphed, half missing in his memories. When Jonghyun turns his attention to the figure above him from the rather pathetic spot he’s taken up on the sidewalk, his lips turn but the act isn’t exactly a pleasant one; regret flickers over his features for a second and sinks back into his skin as quickly as it appeared. Lips turning a sickly color, pallid, bluing like he kissed the night sky and stole its color. He knows he’s more than cold, but he tries very hard to act like this is normal. Like this wasn’t a risky chance he took willingly. “Y-you don’t have to do that,” he manages, voice brittle and creaking form his chest. “Even after w-what I did?” 

My sister will look suspicious Gosh your lips look delicious The pause they take is almost as painful as the way their expressions twist, staring at one another like they’ve just watched something that’s deeply unsettled them. Then laughter ensues, punctuated by a loud snort on his end. “Fuck that hurt my nose. time out. time out.” 

The cold seeps through his gloves, bringing a numbness to his fingertips the longer he holds the sphere of ice in his hands. He can’t think of the last time he’s done something as trivial and harmless as this, or when anything he’s done to occupy his time has come with a consequence that doesn’t  negatively impact the other party involved. It was just a walk from one building to another and while he first tried to make it as quick and painless as possible, he couldn’t suppress the idea of actually playing in the snow, reverting back to a child that could thoughtlessly hoard all of his time in activities that provided no real productivity. He’s witnessed excitement during his time here when the first flakes began to fall and people would gasp as though they were witnessing something monumental. There were years between him and his fondest memories, acting as a barrier that convinced him that he’d forgotten how to manifest his own until now, where he’s stopped in his tracks to collect enough snow to make a fairly large ball, watching keenly from his dorm steps as a familiar physique emerges from another set, not too far away. He draws back the hand with ammunition and throws with enough force that the ball skims through the thin, winter air and lands directly before the target’s next step forward, but before any attention could be directed to him, he dives behind a snow-dusted shrub. The thudding in his chest is loud and incessant and he thinks he feels laughter peeling through his lips but the atmosphere has siphoned the feeling from his face which is as hilarious as it is concerning. Fogged breath, the moisture threading into his denim as he collapses into the thick layer of snow under him. Jonghyun picks up another handful of snow but watches, contemplatively as this mass gently slips through opened fingers. The joy that simmers in his veins is accompanied by a realization that regardless of those years he spent wasting his youth, they will always be with him. Forgetting is a choice. Neglecting is a self-inflicted punishment. Maybe normalcy is just one step away that he has to be willing to take.

“I’m well past this realization, about fifteen years to be exact,” he cuts in, eyes devoid of the excitement they held seconds prior. Slowly, he sets the handful of tinsel down onto the arm of a lounge chair. “I honestly wanted to see what you would do if you thought I still believed in these dumb traditions. Not much of a cheer-bringer are you?” Palms smack together, brush off on the tops of his knees. He takes one of the cookies he supposedly slaved over for an imaginary old man in a red suit off of the plate, next to their pile of glittery things, and thinks about how the grocery store a few blocks away must have run out of them by now. “Don’t worry though, I won’t tell anyone you’re just as much of a scrooge as I am.”

[sent]: Well we’ll know the real outcome if you start blowing gumdrop chunks everywhere, now wont we. [sent]: lmao what the hell compels someone to eat an entire gingerbread house anyway, I gotta know for scientific purposes. 

His smile is ugly, the fissure of a pleased expression twisting his face in ways that make him look like pieces of different puzzles forced to fit together. “It’s not like some heavenly strike of lightning is going to come down and singe off your perfect hair because you don’t believe in the fat man anymore, buddy.” Cold digits thrum a rhythm against the man’s cheek and then fall, contemplative and still back into Jonghyun’s lap. “Inside of us we all have little old fat men that want to make people happy and give them shit they don’t really need, and according to most B-rated holiday movies, that’s all that really matters.” 

His eyes widen, brows drawn taut. He’s gotten into plenty of arguments in his time but never have any of them ended on such a concerning note. “Look, you gotta keep your creepy ass Christmas kinks out of this or else I’m going to have to start telling people that I don’t know you.” Jonghyun tries to morph the concern on his face around a laugh that makes him wonder if his stomach could spontaneously cave in if he works the muscles too hard. When he decides to leave, a heavy hand falls onto the curve of the other’s shoulder, accompanied by a quick squeeze and the sound of his laughter trying valiantly to escape in bursts from behind tightly pressed lips but once he turns the nearest corner, all hope and silence is lost. 

[ sent ]: Looks like it’s about time to tell ur kid that their entire life is a lie and growing up is just all part of an unavoidable death sentence :D